


The Other

by Kat_Rowe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley doesn't even feature yet it manages to be vaguely shippy, Gen, because Aziraphale is a friend to all living things, it's a story about Aziraphale and Crowley's plants, make of that what you will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25207045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Rowe/pseuds/Kat_Rowe
Summary: Belonging to the Master is a good life for a house plant to have, even if the standards are quite high. It's not as if He shoutsallthe time, after all, and they're always safe and provided for.And, when they're very,verylucky, the Other pays them an unexpected visit.
Relationships: Aziraphale & some plants, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 117





	The Other

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Zorianne for the beta work. Any errors remaining are entirely my own. 
> 
> This fic is the result of a rather random conversation about what really happens to the plants that displease Crowley. Vicky, you're a filthy enabler and I love you for it.
> 
> So, yeah, have a fic where Aziraphale breaks into Crowley's flat to talk to his plants. ~~It is entirely possible that my self-imposed exile for the well-being of the citizens of the Realm has finally broken what was left of my sanity.~~

It had been a quiet day, and, as was always the case during those, the house plants reveled in the unaccustomed peace.  
  
Not that they were by any means unhappy with their existence, not really. They weren’t fools, after all. They lived in a perfectly-controlled climate, were somehow perpetually exposed to sunlight, enjoyed the best soil money could buy, and received multiple daily mistings even when the Master was not at home. Animals and insects never appeared to nibble on their leaves, and even if some impertinent spore of mildew _had_ managed to worm its filthy way into the flat, it would have known better than to try to infest one of the Master’s plants. If it had even thought of such a thing, the impertinent speck of filth would have been made to stand as an example to every other mold spore on the planet, a reminder of who was in charge, and of how very high His standards were. 

The Master always protected and nurtured His chosen plants, and always made it perfectly clear what was expected of them in return. If they failed Him, knowing both the rules and their consequences, well that was their fault. But, if they pleased Him, they were protected and given the best of everything. So, really, how could any of them complain? 

Even so, the peace was nice, and they were all enjoying it to the utmost, roots drinking up water and nutrients as they lazily breathed in carbon dioxide and happily discarded the oxygen left over after it was used, just lounging around in companionable stillness. A beautiful day, an almost perfect one. 

Then the doorknob rattled.

Every plant went completely quiet, not even remembering to breathe as they waited for the sound of the Master’s footsteps. You could always tell the Master’s mood from His footsteps, and brace yourself if necessary. A young plant, newer to the flat than the rest, quivered a bit as the door swung inward and everyone strained to hear what came next. A heavy tread echoed through the flat, followed by another, a great deal of shuffling around, and the sound of the door gently being drawn shut. 

Every plant in the flat let out a long burst of pure oxygen at the familiar sound. It wasn’t the Master at all, but the _Other_. And no one had to be wary or on their best behavior during a visit from him. They listened eagerly as the Other moved through the flat, humming to himself for a moment before a different music filled the flat. Not the music they were generally exposed to, not at all. The Other’s music was soft and rich and flowed through itself in beautiful, lazy loops and curlicues. It was one of the gifts the Other always brought; he called it Classical Music. The Master’s music was something called Bebop, and not nearly so relaxing. 

“Good news, my dears,” the Other called in his brightest voice as he continued to move through the apartment. “Crowley will be gone for _hours_ and I can stay almost the whole time! I’ve brought everyone’s favorite fertilizers, and I even managed to lay hands on a canister of carbon dioxide on short notice! Won’t it be a lovely afternoon?” he asked, entering the room where the plants lived and dragging something large, round and metal on the little wheeled cart he always used when he brought them extra air.

Leaves ruffled eagerly as everyone strained to shift just a tiny bit closer to the Other’s comforting presence. Laughing at their enthusiasm, he began a slow circuit of the room, fingertips brushing tenderly over everyone’s leaves as he went. As always, he took his time, and spoke kindly to each as he touched it. He knew them all, remembered the littlest things about them.

“Look at you! I do believe you’ve grown, little one. Won’t Crowley be so pleased?” he asked the newcomer, gently tracing the veins of a leaf back to its trunk and smiling widely. “Yes, you wait and see, little one. You’ll be Tenured before you know it.” Turning to another, he gently held the tip of one leaf between his thumb and forefinger, letting out a little sigh of contentment. “I don’t have favorites, but you are looking _lovely_ today, my dear. And I’d swear that your veining wasn’t this bright last time.” And so on to another, cooing, “Oh, as shiny as ever, your leaves are, and so verdant. If the nursery-keeper who sold you to Crowley could see you now…”

It was a wonderful ritual and, in a haze of group contentment, no plant was in any particular hurry for its own turn. How could they be when, all around them, their friends were receiving such wonderful praise and encouragement from the Other, even assurances that the Master would be happy with them! It was such a delightful sharing that none of the others minded in the least when the newcomer received a second round of kind reassurances and gentle encouragements. Transitioning into life here was always difficult; the poor little newcomer needed it, and the Other understood that. He was always so generous to all of them, and always gave more whenever he thought it might help.

He finally moved to the large canister of carbon dioxide, beaming around the room. “You’ve all been wonderfully patient and I’m very proud.” 

With a soft hum of pleasure, he twisted something on the top of the canister (no one was quite sure they understood how the whole thing worked, and no one really cared as long as it continued working). Abruptly, the air in the room became absolutely _delicious_. The Other fell silent, looking around expectantly and beaming as the room was filled with the sound of the plants greedily gulping down the wonderful gas. 

And, then, as if the afternoon had not been wonderful enough, the Other slipped from the room and returned a moment later with a small cloth bag and a sealed bucket that could only contain the promised fertilizer. The Master had resisted the idea of giving them fertilizer for some time but, after quite a loud discussion with the Other a few years ago, it had been conceded that the plants could occasionally have fertilizer. _If_ they earned it. And, really, what better incentive could there possibly be to grow well and look pretty? 

“I trust no one objects if I start with our new friend?” the Other asked, looking around for a moment and smiling when no one protested. “Ah, bless you all. You do so much better when you support each other, don’t you think? Why, I remember when all of you were actually _competing_ for Crowley’s favor!” He tsked softly for a moment, fixing them all with a rather stern look before reaching into his bag, finding a small trowel and pulling on a pair of gloves. “And trust me, I know as well anyone the pain and frustration of competing with a being who _should_ be your best source of support and comfort. Cooperation is much better for everyone.” 

It was a wise lesson; life in the flat had improved immeasurably after they’d all started supporting and comforting each other and stopped striving for supremacy in miserable isolation. They didn’t fully understand _all_ the Other’s words, beyond knowing that they must always feel sympathy and offer encouragement to one another, but they did know that any behavior encouraged by the Other could only be good for everyone. And that they’d all been under much less stress, and managed to grow even lovelier, since he’d imparted this lesson on them. 

The newcomer squirmed a bit as he started working the fertilizer into its soil, and he hesitated, smiling curiously up at the young plant. “Are you all right? I’m not tickling your roots too badly, am I, dear one?” The newcomer immediately went still at the question, not even inhaling the lovely air any more. “No, don’t be afraid, little one. I didn’t threaten to stop, but I _will_ be more gentle if you like.” 

The newcomer gave a little wiggle in response. The Other nodded in understanding and resumed the task of working fertilizer into the soil, more gingerly this time in consideration of the young plant’s ticklishness. When he was done, he prodded and patted the soil until it looked just as it had before, then climbed to his feet, laughing as the happy newcomer let out a long huff of pure oxygen.

“You’re very welcome, my dear. Now… you next?” he asked, pointing at one of the other plants. Since this particular one had been having a bit of trouble keeping up recently, no one objected, so the Other dropped to his knees again and reached for more fertilizer. As he worked, he told them, “The weather’s dreadful outside. Not nearly warm enough for any of you, and I don’t think I’ve seen the sun in _days_. Which, of course, none of you ever need worry about. Crowley would never tolerate any of you being deprived of sunlight, after all,” he added with a chuckle.

This, too, was part of the ritual that they all enjoyed. The Other gifted each of them with ample fertilizer: more than they _needed_ , but not so much as to leave them feeling unwell. As he worked his way around the room, he spoke. He told them about the world outside the flat, the weather and how the Outside plants were doing. Sometimes, he spoke of humans, but not always, and not today. He did speak of his books, though, and while no one really understood any of it, his voice always turned so warm and bright that they always listened happily to those stories, lulled by the Other’s voice even when his words made little sense. 

Mentions of their Master popped up almost at random as he spoke, as this or that anecdote reminded him of the powerful being he was brave enough to call simply _Crowley_. That was always puzzling to everyone. The Other had been around longest, and was certainly better-favored than any of the plants, but there was also an uneasy certainty among them that he didn’t actually _fear_ the Master. At all. Which seemed odd in light of how long he’d been kept around. He never did seem to grow, but he must have once done something that had pleased the Master enormously, because there was no question to anyone that the Master intended to keep the Other forever, and liked him best. 

Not that anyone could be jealous, not when the Other was so unfailingly good to every last one of them. The only regret any of the plants had was that the Other spent so much time away from the flat, away from all of them. But each unexpected visit was a blessing and, some day, the plants were hopeful that the Other’s visits might become more frequent. After all, he was the Master’s very first favorite. His frequent absences might be tolerated by the Master now, but not forever. The Master enjoyed the Other’s company far too much, and the plants knew the Master’s temperament well enough to be able to infer the only possible outcome. 

“There,” the Other sighed happily as he finished giving fertilizer to the last of them. “That’s everyone, and I trust you’re all feeling much better now than you were when I arrived. Unfortunately, I must leave now, but I’ll try to be back very soon.”

Leaves rustled excitedly at that, and the Other gave a sigh of contentment as he gathered up his things, offered them each a last goodbye, and left. But he would be back. He had promised.

In the silence left by the absence of the music he had brought, the little newcomer couldn’t help but wonder why the Other was always so kind to them when he visited them in the Master’s absence, but barely gave them a second glance when he visited while the Master was at home.


End file.
